One Night & 9 Months
by UndercoverDorks
Summary: One night stands are meant to be just that, one night. That is until she finds herself knocked up with no place to stay... and what the hell was he thinking when he offered her his bed? P/Q. AU. Strong language & snapshots of sex.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

**_._**

**Noah **'Puck' Puckerman had one simple rule for every relationship he had:

_Nothing serious._

In fact, none of the flings he'd ever had had been "relationships", exactly. They'd been one night stands, and fucking good ones, too, because—well, let's face it, he knew how to choose them. He looked for the thigh and the boobs, the lips…by the way they arched or curled when they looked at him, he could tell if this girl would kiss well, or would fuck everything up once they started going for it.

The way they walked. Virgins or non-virgins? This was very important, because, shit, he didn't want to feel guilty for being the one who took some chick's virginity and then it meant nothing to him, then they went crying to their girlfriends and bam. He was doomed for life.

Plus, if they weren't virgins, chances were they were much more fun.

And he needed no pick-up lines, either. The ladies came up to him, because, well, if you would just look at him…he was just _attractive_. He wasn't afraid to admit it, I mean, why should he? He knew he worked to get the body he had now, and his handsome face was a gift from God! Why deny such a great gift? He was a ladies' man, a player, he was happy that way, and there was nothing else to it.

Sitting at a bar, this was all going through his head; his usual pep talk as he scouted for new girls. He did this weekly; or when he just got tired of talking to Finn, his best friend, when he needed someone to have some heavy intense sex with, no strings attached, and leave satisfied until the next one came up. Yeah, he was living the life a lot of guys would want to live, and he was getting away with it.

These were not the thoughts of a young green-eyed blonde serving the men in that particular bar, though. In fact, no thoughts of "relationships" crossed her mind. She was fully intent on getting enough money to get the hell out of this place, get an education, and never have to see Lima or any of the people living there again. She only rolled her eyes at the wolf whistles she got every day, and it took everything she had not to spit on the fucking pedophiles that walked in here thinking they had a chance with her.

They didn't.

She needed someone who wasn't a Lima loser.

And everyone living in Lima?

Yeah, they were all Lima losers.

Quinn Fabray set down the order of drinks some guys (who were probably going to be cut off soon) had screamed at her for, ignoring their dirty words towards her and their incompetent personalities. She walked up back to the kitchen and sighed, laying on the counter, waiting for her friend, Brittany, to finish tying her apron.

She smiled sadly. "You need some help?" she offered. Brittany turned to her and smiled.

"Thanks, Quinn," she said, giving her back to her. "Knots have always been my weak point."

_Oh, Britt,_ thought Quinn. _Everything's your weak point._ Not that she would tell her this; she loved her friend, another waitress in this cheap bar, it was just that she wasn't the brightest…she never let her take a shift if she or her other friend, Santana, weren't there. She would most probably leave with one of these disgusting men and…well, they couldn't let her do that.

"I know, Britt," she said, sighing, and tied the knot for her. "Your table's waiting, sweetie."

Britt smiled brightly and, thanking Quinn again, grabbed her tray of drinks and retreated back out into the bar.

Quinn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling that deep sense of annoyance she always does at this hour. She didn't even jump when some idiot dropped some pans on the floor, or when they started yelling at him for being, well, an idiot.

She was about to open her eyes when she heard a familiar voice. "Falling asleep on the job, Q?"

Quinn sighed and opened her eyes, seeing her best friend (and sometimes the most fucking annoying person she'd ever met) Santana smirking at her, her hands on her hips, her hair in a bun. Santana raised an eyebrow at here. "Again?"

"I'm not sleeping, Santana," she said, walking back to the sink, washing her hands. "I'm trying to calm down enough not to kill any of these guys."

"Whoa, déjà vu," she said, following her to the back. "Don't we have this conversation every day?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and you always start it."

"Huh." Santana nodded thoughtfully. "I guess we're stuck in a rut."

"Exactly what I'm trying to get away from." Quinn muttered, finishing washing her hands and looking over at the Latina. "When is your shift over?"

"Whenever Bob wants me to leave," she said, looking at her nails. "I never have a set time, remember?" she looked at Quinn and smirked.

Quinn sighed. "You're such a slut." She said, her voice low. Santana laughed bitterly.

"It's what I do." She looked over at the door as it was being opened by one other waitress, then looked back at Quinn. "Hot guy out there, by the way. He's alone. And he has got it going _on_."

"I don't care," Quinn said. "Like I never do. So why do you keep trying to set me up with someone?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Because, it's no fun being a slut while your best friend is the fucking perfect image of a virgin. You need a guy, and you need to lose _it_, quickly."

Quinn turned around and glared at her. "Have I mentioned how much I hate you sometimes?"

"Just as much as you've mentioned how much you love me." Santana smiled innocently and left the kitchen, carrying a tray of food and drinks. Quinn stifled a scream of frustration and stormed out behind the counter to tend to the bar.

Puck looked back to see who was storming out, then looked back to check out the fine Latina waitress, then did a double take.

That was it. First mistake: he looked twice. He shouldn't have done that. He would later learn that he should've stuck to the other waitress and just left it at that.

But there was something about this blonde one…she wasn't just hot, like all the other girls he'd seen before, she was outright gorgeous. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her eyes green and big, her figure perfect, the black dress she was wearing suiting her perfectly, some strands of blonde hair falling on her face, and for some reason, he couldn't stop looking.

Second mistake: he checked _her_ out. Not the way she walked out, not the way her lips curled, just…_her_. Too obviously. He never should have done this, because then it would later lead to them having a conversation, then…well, then you'll see.

Quinn looked over to the guy who was looking her over and rolled her eyes, walking over to him. She raised an eyebrow. "Need another drink, sir?"

Puck blinked and looked up at her, grinning lazily. "I actually want something else."

Quinn stared at him.

Not getting a reaction out of her baffled Puck, but he composed himself in time to raise an eyebrow at her. "Now a _good_ waitress would ask what I'd rather want."

Quinn took a step back, a repulsed look on her face. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, coming in here and telling her what a good waitress was or did?

She took a deep breath, calming herself, doing everything in her power to not slap this guy across the face like every single other men that walked into the bar. She plastered an obviously fake smile on her face and looked at him. "What would you rather want, sir?"

Puck raised an eyebrow, taking everything she had done out of context and thinking, like every single other overly confident guy the she so wanted him. He smirked. "You."

Quinn's smile faded and she scoffed. "Ugh, like I haven't heard that one before." She grabbed his cup, ignoring his confused look, and served him some more of…whatever she had just gotten, because she didn't pay any attention, really, she was pretty pissed. "Do me a favor and get some new pick-up lines."

"Well I'm sorry I've never needed any before," he retaliated, holding up his hands defensively. "Usually every girl seems to come up to me." He eyed the Latina he was looking at before, as she gave her a seductive smile.

Quinn looked over at Santana, noticing what the guy was looking at, and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she would." She stared cleaning the bar top. "She's up for nothing serious. She likes to fuck and then not _give_ a fuck."

Puck looked back at the girl, noticing how bitter she sounded about that. "Damn, too bad you don't like that. It's my motto."

Quinn laughed bitterly. "And why am I not surprised?" she finished cleaning the area of the bar top close to the creep and smiled at him, the smile faux once more. "Well, it was sure nice talking to you." Quinn retreated back into the kitchen, muttering about immature idiots who never left her alone and how she wished she could get out of Lima already.

Puck sat there in silence for a few minutes, then he shook his head. What the fuck just happened? Was he actually just rejected? By a _girl_? Not that he's ever been rejected by a _guy_—in fact, he's never been with a guy. He shook his head, trying to land his thoughts back. He was just rejected. By one of the most gorgeous girls he'd ever seen. How was the even possible?

He looked down at the drink she had served him, which looked like a mix of shit and dirt. He wouldn't be surprised if it was, actually, but he wasn't going to taste it to find out. He grabbed his coat and walked back into the kitchen, determined not to lose this fight.

Quinn turned around, expecting to chew out Santana for getting that creep horny in the first place, instead being greeted by the creep himself. She gaped and threw a rag she was carrying on the floor furiously. "You can't be back here!"

"Says who?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, his posture nonchalant.

"Says morality, idiot. And the bar regulations. Now get the hell out of the kitchen before the boss sees you and gets _me_ in trouble." She glanced nervously outside, where the office was, hoping the Bob didn't actually decide to come out of his office all of a sudden.

Puck didn't realize this and just stared at the girl. Damn, she was beautiful. So damn beautiful. He _needed_ to get in her pants. Soon. "Look. I'm not getting out of this kitchen without getting your name."

"Quinn." She smiled bitterly. "Now get out of here."

Well, that was easier than he thought. Not according to plan. He cleared his throat. "You didn't let me finish." he watched her get frustrated, and it did crazy things to him… "You also have to agree to go out with me tonight."

Quinn scoffed. "Like hell." She couldn't believe he was doing this in front of everyone. Her face turned red in anger and embarrassment. "Now get _out_ of here." She hissed.

He laughed. "No way, babe," he said, standing his ground. "I've never been rejected before, and I'm not about to start being rejected now."

Frustrated with him, Quinn slammed her notepad on the food prep table and pushed her way out the back door. She sat on the steps, not caring what happened to that creep, as long as she didn't have to look at him. She huffed and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Forty-eight minutes. Forty-eight minutes until she was out the door of the filthy bar and on her way home to her warm bed. Forty-eight minutes and she'd be away from the disgusting pigs that couldn't control their urges to stare and make gestures at her.

She sat for a minute, letting her eyes slip closed as she tried to collect her thoughts. Just as she was about to muster up the energy to go back inside, she felt the door open behind her, and tensed up.

"Sleeping on the job?" her hands curled into fists at the sound of his voice. The familiarity of that sentence sickened her. She was _sick_ of his desperate games, and especially his cocky attitude. She watched as he brought a lighter to the long cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"That's a disgusting habit." She spit, her anger getting the better of her. He put his hands up defensively and dropped the cigarette after taking a puff, and blowing it in her face as he put it out with his boot.

"You happy now?" He said with a smirk.

She waved the smoke out of her face and rolled her eyes as she pushed her way past him. "I'll be happy when you leave me the hell alone." She muttered, and then stormed angrily back into the kitchen, slamming the door in his face.

_Fuck_. What the hell was this broad's problem? Puck was frustrated with himself now. Usually it only took a little persuading to get a wary girl in his bed, and by now he would have given up, and gone for the next hottie that caught his eye… but something about _her_ was different. Every time she rejected him, he just wanted her more, and he wasn't going to give up until he found a way to get her underneath him.

Quinn steamed as she filled an order, piling plates onto a tray. Santana walked past, a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to that guy at the bar?"

"Who cares?" Quinn muttered harshly, focusing on not blowing up, glancing at the clock. Forty-three minutes.

Santana rolled her eyes as she clipped an order up for the cooks. "I should have known you'd just scare him off." Quinn ignored her, glancing at the backdoor, her face still smug.

"Jesus Christ Quinn, at this rate you're going to be a fucking virgin forever. Besides, you seriously need to get laid, maybe it'd loosen the stick up your ass." She gave her a 'you-know-I'm-right' look.

Quinn rolled her eyes and turned to her, putting a hand on her hip, "I can get laid whenever I feel like it, thank you very much."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I'll believe it when I see it."

Quinn folded her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow, her eyes shifting to the backdoor, deciding he must have gotten lost. She thought for a brief second and opened her mouth, saying the last thing she'd planned to, almost  
instantly regretting it. "Pick a guy, and I'll do it."

Santana raised an eyebrow and chortled, "Yeah right, I'll never hear the end of it. I'd be to blame for the demise of Quinn Fabray's _precious_ virginity."

And that was it.

Quinn had never been the type of girl to do things just because everyone else was doing it, but night after fucking night she had suffered through Santana's constant ridicule of her innocence. And Santana was right, Quinn needed to give it up eventually, and it might as well be with a complete stranger. It was better that, then embarrassing herself with a potential future boyfriend. It no longer mattered _who_ it was with as long as it was out of the way.

"Before I change my mind, Santana." Quinn said confidently, knowing there was no turning back now.

A sly smile appeared on Santana's lips, and she wet them quickly as she peeked her head into the cramped bar, eyeing every man very carefully, making sure not to stick her best friend with a complete freak (because, even though she didn't show it too much, she loved Quinn, and would never do that to her). She smirked when she saw _him_, back on his barstool, taking a gulp of his whiskey.

"Him." She said, a pleased smile on his face.

Quinn's stomach sank when she heard Santana, her fate being sealed right then and there. She gulped as she moved over to where she was standing, following Santana's gaze.

_Of course._

_

* * *

_

_Hello. :-) It's Claudia & Mikayla again, with another collabortation._

_BEFORE YOU COUNSELING FANS KILL US:_

_Understand that once the inspiration is gone for a story, it's not so easy to get it back. Maybe one day we'll pick it up again in the future, but for now...it's not going to be updated. Sorry, guys._

_NOW ALL QUICK FANS:_

_This is AU, and it's really like a romantic comedy, something you'd see in a movie. It's going to be humorous, and don't worry, the chapters will be longer than the prologue. I hope you enjoyed this, though. :) By the way, the pairings? Aren't going to be Finchel. Just saying. So if you're willing to overlook that: continue reading. :)_

_REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW._

_We love feedback, we update more often with feedback, and we'll love you forver with feedback. :)_

_~Claudia & Mikayla._


	2. Chapter One

**_Chapter One_**

_._

**Quinn** rolled over on the bed, gasping and trying to catch her breath.

When she looked back, Quinn always thought losing her virginity would be a special and momentous occasion: she would feel love rushing through her veins and would be treated gently and it would be like those shitty clichéd romantic movies, just perfect, and she would be thinking about how perfect the guy next to her was.

Instead, it was a sweaty and quick occasion: all she felt rushing through her veins was frustration (with both Santana and Puck, whom she had learned the name of after marching up to him) and she was treated roughly and it felt like a porn movie gone wrong instead of a clichéd romance, and all that was going through her mind was:

"What the fuck did I just do?"

Puck thought this as he wiped some sweat off his forehead, trying to catch his breath and he layed on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened.

The sex was quick and awkward—and he was ashamed to admit it was probably him who was off his game. He didn't know what was wrong with him! He was usually a pro at this, knowing exactly when to enter a girl, knowing their "soft spot", knowing what to say to them to drive them crazy, and especially knowing how they liked it.

But this chick—she was so fucking difficult to figure out! When he was about to enter her she pushed him off and hisses a feisty "not yet!". He kissed every spot imaginable (or any part imaginable to him, anyway) but none of them managed to give him more than a small moan or whimper. Everything he said got him a "stop talking, would you?". And so, this made the whole thing clumsy and stupid and ultimately fast: making his list of top ten worst one night stands. No contest.

Quinn closed her eyes, finally catching her breath, and refused to let herself feel anything. She had just lost her virginity to a practical stranger (who most obviously thought himself way better than he actually was) and it was possibly the worst possible place to do it, too: a small, two bedroom apartment that sure, it looked alright; the living room and the kitchen were neat, small but comfortable and well lighted. But then you walked through the hall and into Puck's room and it was a fucking mess—his full size bed unmade and the smell! The smell of unwashed underwear all around the room and rotten pizza and other food she couldn't recognize , already far too rotten to even be distinguished. It was a horrible, horrible room and honestly? It was the worst night of her life.

She felt angry tears well up in her eyes and she opened them, refusing to let them fall. She stood up quickly and started dressing herself again. Puck looked over at her, confused.

"Are you leaving?" he asked her, sitting up.

Quinn nodded furiously. "This was nice," she lied. She finished dressing herself and looked over at Puck, her eyes void of emotion now. "Thanks for everything, I guess." She walked out of the room, and walked out of the house, wanting to forget this night as soon as she could.

Puck blinked, then groaned. Well, that had been a disaster. Thankfully, he tried to convince himself lamely, he never had to see her again. That was too much of a risk, he told himself, because it would just bring down his mojo. Anyway, all he had to do was find another girl (possibly no other could compare to this one, that was for sure, but what the hell?) and get into her pants and make up for this time.

He put his boxers on and walked lazily to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer bottle, opening it and glancing at the door.

He knew Finn was about to walk through that door any second now, him being the guy who actually worked and usually paid the rent fully until Puck could come up with the other half. Although he annoyed the hell out of him sometimes, he was glad to have a friend like Finn: it seemed like he was really the longest relationship he'd ever had.

In a non gay way, of course.

Drinking his beer, he walked over to the couch and turned on the TV, trying his hardest to forget what happened just about an hour and a half before. Turning the volume up all the way to block out his thoughts, Puck put his feet up on the coffee table (Finn would clean it up later. His friend is weird like that.) and gulped his beer down. A re-run of Two and a Half Men was on, and he stared at it, the noise obviously hurting his ears but not a word was getting through to him.

He continued gulping down his beers and staring at the TV, grateful it was actually preventing him from thinking, not worrying about anything. He didn't even jump when Finn struggled with the door and opened it noisily, grumbling to himself.

Finn Hudson stared at his best friend, blinking. He looked over at the clock. "Holy shit." He shook his head and closed the door behind him, locking it afterward. He took off his coat and threw it on the loveseat adjacent to the couch. "It's Friday night, it's only 11 o' clock, and Noah Puckerman is still home. Hell has frozen over."

Puck turned to look over at Finn, glaring at him. "Funny, Hudson," he spat, looking back at the TV. Finn crossed over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer, then looking back at Puck.

"Turn it down. We're not in a movie theater." Finn said, gulping down his beer and taking off his button down shirt, walking into the hall and to his room.

Puck snorted. "Nope. This is my emotional outlet."

"_Two and a Half Men_?" Finn called to him. "That doesn't sound too outlet-y."

"And that doesn't sound like a word, but you don't hear me bitching about it." Puck took another gulp of his beer, grumbling when it finished.

Finn came back out with a casual gray T-Shirt, sighing. "Someone got rejected tonight." He walked over to Puck and took away the remote, lowering the volume, then threw it back on the kitchen counter.

Puck scoffed. "The hell makes you think that?"

Finn sat down next to his friend on the couch, handing him another beer, putting his feet ip on the coffee table as well. Puck grumbled something like a "thank you" and opened the beer, taking a huge drink.

"Your face and attitude says it all, man," Finn explained. "Now tell me what happened."

And, like always, Puck did.

Meanwhile, Quinn's teeth were chattering and her foot was tapping impatiently as she waited for her oh-so-fucking late best friend to pick her up. She wrapped her coat around her tighter, and certain parts of her body were throbbing more than others…bottom line, she was pretty ticked off, and so not in a mood for waiting out in the cold.

Finally, Santana's fucked up car pulled up in front of the apartment building. Quinn walked quickly over to the car and sat in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and saying nothing to Santana.

Santana raised an eyebrow. "He didn't even have the decency to take you home afterwards? What a prick."

Quinn growled at the Latina. "Drive, Lopez," she spat, and Santana put up her hands defensively before starting the car and driving out of the building. They both sat in silence for a while until Santana finally broke it.

"So no comment? Was it good? Was it bad? Did it rock your world or completely fuck it up? Pain or pleasure? Deets, babe."

Quinn sighed. "It sucked." She said simply. "And I'm never having sex again with someone I don't know."

Santana laughed. "Yeah, princess, I used to say that too." She stopped at a red light and looked over at Quinn. "But once you've done it, kind of hard to stop." She paused. "You had to feel a _little _pleasure."

Quinn scoffed. "I didn't even come." She stated. Santana gaped.

"Man. I thought he looked like a good one." She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Guess you can't judge a book by its binding, after all."

"By its cover," Quinn corrected lazily. Santana looked at the blonde.

"Sweetheart, I look at the rear, not the front."

Quinn laughed bitterly. She waited for Santana to keep pursuing her about her dreadful experience, and let out a slow breath when Santana turned on the radio. Quinn rested her forehead on the cool window, squeezing her eyes shut.

She felt numb.

This is how she knew she wasn't in some sort of fucked up nightmare. Unfortunately.

Santana pulled up in front of her house and killed the engine, "You gonna be okay, Fabray?" she asked, looking over at her.

Quinn jimmied the door open and muttered, "I'll be fine." She gets out and looks at her, "Thanks for the ride."

She shut the door, cringing a little when she realized she had actually slammed it shut. She sighed and walked slowly to the door, trying to ignore the subtle pain between her legs as she moved across the lawn. She opened the door quietly. She inched her way to the stairs ready to drag herself up to her bathroom, desperate for a scalding shower to wash away the thin layer of dry sweat, and with luck, the memories of the horrendous evening she'd just experienced.  
She was halfway up the stairs when her mother walked into the foyer and called up to her.

"Quinnie, sweetie. Will you please come down here, your father and I need to talk to you."

She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth at the sound of her mother's voice. Her parents never asked to talk with her, unless they were about to drop a bomb. She could clearly recall every 'talk' she'd had with her parents.  
The first one was in forth grade, when they told her, her new puppy had gotten hit by a car. She later found out, he piddled on the carpet, so they gave it away to a family down the street.

Then there was the time in ninth grade, when they sat her down and told her that her grandmother had passed away in her sleep. She later found out they waited two days to tell her, because they were caught up in planning a party for her fathers 'very important clients'.

She exhaled slowly and descended back down the staircase. She walked into the formal dining room, her parents seated at the table with wine, her father turning to look at her, noticing how beat up she looked.

"Rough night at work?" He questioned. This pissed Quinn off, because it was just so typical of him to ask her questions he already knew the answers to.

"Can we just get this over with so I can get to bed?" Quinn snapped at him, as she seated herself at the opposite end of the table.

Her mother shot her a warning look, and she quickly bit her tongue.

Her father cleared his throat and spoke bluntly, "We sold the house."

Her mother's face lit up as she turned to look at Quinn for a reaction.

At first, Quinn thought she was hearing things. She waited for a minute before speaking, waiting for some kind of an explanation. Her parents blinked a few times.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

As if her head wasn't spinning enough, now they decide to lay this on her. Granted, they didn't know the night she'd just had… but even if she hadn't just lost her virginity to a complete stranger, in his disgusting apartment, she wouldn't want to be hearing this.

"Wh-what do you mean you sold the house?" Quinn asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, your mother and I have been discussing this for awhile now. We've been planning a year long trip through Europe to start our retirement." He stood and walked over to Judy, putting his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently.

Quinn scoffed, "Retirement? You- you're barely fifty!" she stood up in a rage, "Well what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Judy Fabray stood as well, rushing to put her arm around her youngest daughter, speaking softly. "Sweetie, you just turned twenty-five, you don't want to live with us anymore… We think it's time you looked into finding a place of your own."

"Looking isn't the problem! How am I supposed to afford a decent apartment on minimum wage and crappy tips!" She pushed her mother's arm off of her. "You could have at least told me you were selling the house." She rolls her eyes and takes a step back, her eyes beginning to water, "Does my opinion even matter to you? Don't you care what I think?"

Her parents just looked at her, blinking a few times, not sure how to respond to her outburst. Quinn scoffed and shook her head at them. This was so fucked up.

She stormed up to her bathroom and quickly stripped her clothes off. She turned the water up as hot as it'd go, and hissed as she stepped under the sweltering stream of water. She squeezed her eyes shut as the water turned her skin a shade of bright red.

She began to scrub.

She scrubbed every inch of her skin roughly, hoping the harder she scrubbed, the more the memories would fade. If that was the case, why did it feel like she was just rubbing them in, a permanent reminder that this night happened.

As she scrubbed, she cried. She didn't just let a few tears fall either, she sobbed. She silently prayed the sound of the running water would drown out her desperate wails.

Quinn hated crying almost more than anything. It was a sign of weakness and failure. Both things she couldn't stand in her life.

The pain was too much, so she shut off the water, stopping the tears as well. She took a deep breath as she stood, letting the crisp air ease the burning. She reached for her towel and thought of something her grandmother told her when she was little.

"It could always be worse."

This time, she wasn't so sure.

* * *

_Reviews, they're loved.  
oh yeah. Sorry for the late post. We've been busy, but don't worry. :)  
Faster updates soon!  
-Claudia & Mikayla_


	3. Chapter Two

_**Chapter Two**_

_**.**_

**Three** weeks went by faster than expected.

Quinn picked up more hours at work as an excuse to get out of the house. She was still trying to convince herself that night was just a figment of her imagination, an illusion if you will. The boxes stacked around the house was the only thing reminding her that this was reality. She hadn't even started packing up her room. Her mother told her she was being childish and Quinn ignored her, because, well, she was right.

Puck bounced back with ease. Since his night with Quinn, he'd already fucked three more girls. The biggest difference between these hookups and the one with Quinn, wasn't the sex. The sex was great, he left each of them satisfied with his performance. No, it wasn't the sex, it was that he could not remember a single one of their names. And that's how it usually was with all of his one night stands.

So why the fuck couldn't he get Quinn's name out of his head?

Quinn had been feeling sick all afternoon. Sure, the smell of the smoke combined with sweat and oil from the group of bikers that came in every Saturday afternoon always made her nauseous, but this was something she couldn't shake.

"You alright, Fabray? You're looking even more sickly than usual." Santana said, filling her tray with mugs of beer, a small smile on her face as she glanced at Quinn.

"Gee, how sweet of you to notice." She took a deep breath through her mouth, refusing to inhale. "I'm fine. Once I'm out of here, I should be good."

Santana nodded once, "So, have you found a place yet?" She questioned, knowing it was a touchy subject, yet not caring.

Quinn ran the rag over the counter top, her body tensing. "I haven't started looking."

Santana frowned, "Q, your parents are leaving next week."

"Your point?" Quinn retorted harshly, turning away from her. "I don't want to talk about this."

That's when she felt her stomach churn. She darted out the back door of the bar and gripped the side of the trash can, spilling the contents of her stomach into it. She groaned as she lifted her head, groggily.

Santana came through the door, her nose wrinkling. "Oh… Ew." She sighed as she walked over to her, putting a hand on her back. "You should go home, I'll cover for you."

Quinn looked at her, "Are you sure?"

Santana smiled and untied the back of her apron for her. "You owe me, bitch."

Quinn laughed weakly, "Thanks, S."

Santana rolled her eyes and waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, don't go getting all mushy on me." Quinn smiled and walked out of the bar, taking her coat and bag, walking to the street and waving for a cab. A cab pulled up and she got inside, the smell of smoke hitting her harshly. She coughed and felt the nausea rise up in her again, her face scrunching up before she could say anything. The cab driver glanced back and rolled his eyes.

"You one of those prissy ladies who can't handle a smoker?" he said, and Quinn would have slapped him if she wasn't to busy trying to contain what was supposed to be inside her, well, inside her. She did, though, glare at him, and the cab driver took the hint.

"Right, right, I'll shut up." He threw the cigarette out the window and turned on the air conditioning, even if it was cold out. Quinn decided not to breathe in at all and told the driver in one quick breath where to, and he drove.

She felt like crap. Utter and _complete_ crap. Quinn would have liked to pass off the fact that she was still dwelling on that horrible night as an excuse for this, but she knew she probably had caught a bug, to add to her just peachy mood. She bit her lip and tried to hold her breath the whole car ride home, trying not to let the vomit rise up any farther than her throat.

When she finally got there, the cab driver had to remind her it wasn't a free ride. She rolled her eyes and debated to whether or not throw up in his cab then walk away without paying, but then realized this was pretty rude, so she paid up and walked out of the cab.

Walking up the stairs to her (or she should say what was, would no longer be in a few days, etc.) house was the longest walk she thought she ever had to take. She was feeling even sicker than usual and just felt as if she could snap at anyone if they let her, or, quite frankly, even if they didn't. Sweating (sweating! In the middle of November!), she finally reached the front door and opened it, walking past the now empty living room and upstairs.

Her mom, though, wasn't having any of her infantile tantrums. "Now Quinn." Quinn rolled her eyes and looked back at her mother, raising an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

"I need you to pack already." She said tiredly, shaking her head. "You can't keep putting it off. We're gone in two days."

"Why can't you leave me the house?" she asked, glaring at her mother.

"With the money you earn at the bar? You wouldn't be able to pay for a month's worth of the bill." Her mom didn't say this in a rude way, more like in a puzzled way that made Quinn fume because she was right, and she didn't like admitting her mother was right.

"You know mom, I don't understand why you can't even help me find a place of my own. You know how little money I have and you know the only place I can stay in is Santana's, and she lives in the wrong side of Lima," she reminded Judy. "I can't believe you're making me go there."

Judy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're taking all our money and—"

"Don't bother." Quinn said lamely, suddenly too tired to argue. "I'm taking a nap."

Judy blinked at her. "You're very bi polar, sweetheart. And angry and sick. What are you, pregnant?"

Her mother said this in a light tone, as if it was merely a joke but suddenly, Quinn felt even sicker than before.

The word escaped her lips in a whisper as she looked at the wall, mentally counting the days after her last period and realizing she was a week late.

Late.

And holy fuck, there went her lunch.

* * *

The longest fucking five minutes of her life were when she had to sit on a disgusting toilet bowl in her best friend's disgusting apartment staring down at a tiny little test that seemed harmless but would, she knew, ruin her life in a matter of seconds.

She just knew.

Sleeping with that fucking idiot was the biggest mistake of her life and now she was paying for it.

"What does it say?" Santana called out from outside, and Quinn jumped at her voice. Quinn swallowed and shook her head, but then she realized she couldn't see her and she called out in a tiny voice.

"I can't look at it."

Santana opened the door and walked inside, snatching the test from Quinn's hands and looking at it. Quinn couldn't look at Santana's face, which was at the moment staring down at the test, blinking, then it contorted to a pitiful look.

"I'm sorry, Q." Santana pursed her lips. "But it seems you've got one in the oven."

Quinn was more worried about how insensitive her best friend was being, rather than the fact that she just found out she was pregnant.

Then she said this in her head and the horrible thought dwelled on her: she was fucking pregnant. She was carrying the baby of a man she had slept with, known, and literally only met one same night. She didn't know where he was or if he even remembered her, but there it was: she was having Noah Puckerman's baby.

She was carrying the baby of a man she absolutely and completely loathed.

And if it was possible, she hated him even more now.

Meanwhile, said baby's daddy was walking down the hall of a random bar to the exit, after screwing one of the waitresses. He had no clue what was going on in Quinn's life and at that moment, he would admit, he didn't really care. All he knew was that he had just had a great fuck, and now he was going to meet Finn for lunch and he was hungry as hell, and Finn was paying, and everything was alright with the world and nothing hurt.

You know, things would have been even better if he had a car but nothing was perfect.

He decided he didn't need to take a cab to the diner; he really didn't mind walking all that much, and no matter what he told people, he loved to walk in the cold weather and see his breath fog up in front of him. It just reminded him that no matter what he did, he was real, he was a person, and he still had feelings others refused to believe he had.

He watched the snowflakes fall from the sky as he walked, trying to keep his mind off anything that would ruin his mood (in particular, a certain beautiful blonde that his subconscious could never seem to get rid of) or drift his attention away from the nice snowy day. He literally did not feel up to recounting that night with Quinn and thinking of all the things he did and said wrong. Puck usually did this on a day in, and it literally had the bad habit of making him feel like shit.

He never knew what shit felt like, actually. Who knows, maybe it felt good?

These thoughts and many others passed through Puck's mind as he walked aimlessly towards the diner in which he was to meet his best friend and housemate. Just down the street, though, was Quinn Fabray, crying her eyes out into her best friend's shoulder and cursing Noah Puckerman's name.

Santana knew this was partially her fault. Why had she gone out and convinced her best friend, who knew as much about sex as a rabbit, in the first place? She was holding her and trying not to let that never ending guilt eat away at her core but it wouldn't stop. This was all her fault and she felt a responsibility to her friend, to not let her go through this alone and, most importantly… "I'm not letting you stay here."

Quinn stopped crying immediately and looked up at her, her eyes wide, confusion and hurt overtaking her features. "W-what? I'm fucking pregnant!" she cried out. "You're throwing me out on the street like my parents?"

"No!" Santana was quick to clarify, although it did sound like that in the first place. "All I'm saying, Q, is that…this place is a fucking dump. Come on. I mean, I can admit that, and it's my fucking place. This is no place to conceive or…have or raise a child. Especially not yours, princess," she added bitterly. "So I'll help you find a nicer place to crash."

Quinn scoffed. "There is no way in hell that's going to happen." She said. "We both earn the same amount of money and we're both going to die of starvation!"

"Way to look on the bright side," Santana sighed. "Listen, whatever we find you, I can assure it'll be better than this." Santana motioned towards the general direction of the small, messy living room, and Quinn felt a pang of pity for her best friend. She nodded curtly, not wanting to insult her place even more.

Quinn looked at the floor. "I need to take a walk." She said this quietly before walking to the front door and outside, where people were smoking and some shouting at each other. She walked down the street, tears threatening her eyes, thoughts blurry and her stomach seemed to be moving, but it was impossible, she wasn't that far along.

She walked even quicker than before, looking at her feet as they paced one in front of the other rhythmically, not caring as some guys wolf whistled at her (even though Santana had been sure to warn them to don't try and touch her, and they all obeyed, mostly because they were all afraid of Mr. Lopez, who ran things around that area) as she finally turned around the corner, running in the direction of her favorite hiding spot in the nearby park.

But what she didn't know is that down the same sidewalk, down the same street came the man that she claimed to hate so much, thinking about strange things in his head and really not imagining in a million years that in two seconds, he'd be crashing into the girl he was trying to avoid thinking of.

At first they both didn't look up. Quinn apologized profusely and Puck shook his head, just saying it was cool and he wasn't paying attention, then their eyes met.

Puck's reaction was mixed: it was filled with embarrassment (he seemed clumsier around this girl) and happiness, because really, what were the odds of seeing this beautiful girl again after three whole weeks of thinking endlessly about her?  
Quinn's reaction, though, was a completely different one. Hatred boiled in her stomach as she looked him over, taking in his happy features and wishing him the most horrible luck in the world. Disgust followed, disgust for what they had done and, worse, what she'd let him do to her, and for what he had done to her, for what was growing inside of her, for what she wanted to get rid of but knew she would never be able to.

Puck was about to speak when Quinn slapped him across the face, loud and hard, and Puck blinked and stared at the blonde's watery eyes, gaping.

She didn't know what came over her but she needed to do that, needed to let out her anger and frustration and that was the only way she could think of: by blaming it all on Puck, blaming it all on the person who was half the parent…biologically, anyway.

"Hello to you, too." Puck scoffed, rubbing his wounded cheek. Quinn shook her head furiously.

"I'm not apologizing," she spat. "You're a disgusting excuse of a man, you know that? How the fuck did you let me sleep with you? Why didn't you say something?" she demanded, her voice raspy. "You know, I don't remember you asking at least once if I really wanted to do this."

Puck shook his head in disbelief. The first thing this girl would remind him of was the night he still dreaded to think about. "What are you…you came on to me!"  
"After _you_"—she pointed accusingly at him, narrowing her eyes—"came on to _me_."

"It's what I do," he told her. "I warned you from the beginning."

This was true, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of winning. He took her virginity and gave her a fucking baby. She didn't ask for one, she didn't want one, and she just wanted to get the hell out of this town but now a baby had to be included in the plans and fuck no! He did not deserve to win, he didn't deserve _shit_.

"You're a fucking asshole," she spat. "You have no fucking feelings! Do you know what 'virginity' means? I suppose yours was lost at age six, seeing the rate you're going." She attacked, and Puck looked hurt. She almost cared, but the rage and nausea wasn't letting her think straight. "You have no idea, ever since you came into my life, everything has gone downhill. It's like you were a fucking curse."

Puck felt completely differently about her, but he wasn't going to let her know this. Instead, he shook his head, scowling at the petite blonde. "You are a crazy bitch. There is no such thing as curses and there is also no such thing as bad luck."

"Wanna bet?" Quinn said through teary eyes. "Noah Puckerman, my name is Quinn Fabray. You slept with me one night about three weeks ago, and your prize? It's a baby."  
Never in a million years did Puck think he would believe in curses.

But holy crap, this was one.


	4. Chapter Three

_**Chapter Three**_

_**.**_

**There** they were, half an hour later, in some random-ass café around the corner.

Up until then, Puck had never bothered with coffee; his choice of beverage was hard liquor. But considering his… situation, he decided maybe coffee wasn't such a bad idea.

If they thought their encounter three weeks ago was uncomfortable, then this just was downright awkward. They were dead silent as they stared at the paper cups in front of them.

"So…" Puck began, shuffling awkwardly in his seat as he broke the silence. "You're sure you're pregnant?"

"No, you know what," She snapped at him as she dug her fingernails into her palm. "I think a unicorn might be growing inside me."

Puck ignored her sarcasm. "Well, what are you going to do?" He asked, looking at her for the first time since they'd sat down.

"I was thinking I might punch my stomach to see what happens to it." She spat, running a hand through her hair.

Puck blinked. "What?"

"I said you're an idiot." Quinn said bitterly.

He sighed deeply. God, she was pissing him off. Because well, it was technically his kid too.  
_  
His kid._He was having a kid. Holy fucking _shit_, he was having a kid. He didn't know all that much about children, other than what he knew of his little sister; but she was a little brat, and quite frankly he didn't want another one of those in his life.

In all of his thought, he realized something. This girl was a complete stranger to him. Hell, he didn't even have her phone number, and yet here she was, knocked up with his baby.

"What's your number?" He blurted out. He didn't realize he'd said this aloud until he looked up to see the look on her face.

Quinn blinked at him silently for a moment. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She hissed at him, "I tell you pregnant and all you can ask me for is my number?" She threw her hands up, as she reached for her purse at her feet. "You know what? Fuck this and fuck you." She stood up, headed for the door.

He decided this wasn't a good time to retort with his usual, 'You already did' remarks and he groaned as he stood to chase after her.

He wasn't letting her get away; not this time.

"Quinn." He grabbed her arm, keeping his grip on it even when she tried to pull it away. "We're not done talking about this. It's mine too, you know. I want to help you."

She scoffed as she pulled her arm away harshly. "Please, don't even bother acting like you give a shit. You don't want this." She rolled her eyes as she began walking down the street again, calling over her shoulder. "I don't want your help."

He stayed on her heels, reading her like a book. "But you need it."

She stopped dead her tracks. God, she hated him. She hated him for chasing after her. She hated him for being a complete ass. She hated him for knocking her up. But most of all, he hated that he could see right through her. After a long moment she breathed out, "Okay."

* * *

Before they knew it, they were sitting in a Chinese restaurant, and once again, silent. Puck looked over a menu and glanced at the blond across from him. He nodded at the unopened menu in front of her, "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to order something?"

"I hate Chinese food." She said bluntly, giving him a dirty look.

"Figures." He rolled his eyes as he continued reading over the menu. "Do you also hate unicorns?" She scoffed.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He was such a fucking asshole. Out of every guy in Lima, he had to be the one to knock her up.

"Nothing." He waved the waitress over and ordered kung pao chicken. "Can we just… talk about this."

She stared at him, raising an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes. So, obviously he was going to have to do the talking, but he didn't really know what to say. He decided to attempt 'small talk', something he typically avoided as much as possible.

"A girl like you must live up in East Lima." He glanced at her, "with all the rich assholes." He watched her face go pale. Fuck. He sure had a knack for fucking things up, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know he just did it again.

"Not anymore." She said coldly, looking at her hands in her lap. With everything else going on, she'd almost forgotten she was going to be homeless in just a few days.

He groaned, "You have to give me a little more than that, Princess. I'm not a fucking psychic, here."

"I don't have a place to stay." She blurted out, almost instantly regretting it. It was quiet for a good minute before she spoke again, her voice shaky. "My parents are moving... They've left me to find my own place, and that hasn't exactly happened." She looked around the restaurant, avoiding his gaze.

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "What, daddy isn't going to buy you a nice big condo?"

She looked at him in disgust. "You're such a fucking prick." She shook her head and stood again, ready to storm out a second time. "You know, I think it's impossible to have a civil conversation with you. You somehow always find some way to screw it up." She shook her head and laughed bitterly. "You don't want to help me." She looked him dead in the eye, and spoke harshly. "You're selfish. You don't care about anyone but yourself, and I don't see that changing any time soon. So I hope you and your ego have a nice life together." She turned to walk away; something she was getting pretty good at.

"Hold on." He pushed aside her hurtful insults, because even though deep down he knew she was right, he wasn't about to admit it. He moved towards her cautiously, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I can't just let you walk out of here without a place to go."

She decided it would be pointless to tell him that she still had a couple days before she had to be out of her house, instead she shrugged his hand off. "Will you just leave me alone? You've done enough by getting me pregnant." Saying it aloud was like acid on her tongue, and she quickly realized she was never going to get used to the idea of being pregnant.

Puck flinched at the word then he shook his head. "I know, my sperm works that way I guess. It like, travels all around town till it settles."

Quinn looked at him blankly, feeling as if she wanted to laugh but not giving him the satisfaction. She cracked a smile though, for the first time their whole meeting, then laughed once. She frowned and pursed her lips after Puck smirked at her laughter, then she took a step back.

She was about to say something rude but then she remembered what Santana said about having to live in an appropriate place. As far as Quinn knew, Puck's apartment was nice (not his room, but the apartment) and she liked it: it was small and comfortable and very modern, and the wood floors were nice and she suddenly pictured herself there, rubbing her pregnant stomach and for some reason, for some strange fucked up reason, she liked it.

Quinn looked at Puck and took a deep breath. "Okay, you want to help?" Puck nodded once. "Let me stay at your place."

Okay, she beat him to the offer.

Puck sighed and nodded. "Of course."

"Nine months, though," Quinn warned him. "Nine months. Once the baby is born, we give it up, and we move on with our lives like it never happened."

Puck looked down. Did he really want that?

Yes, he did.

Because he was so not taking care of this crazy lady and especially not of her child.

And his.

"Deal." He said, looking up at Quinn. Quinn took a deep breath.

"Okay." She could not believe she was actually going to ask the next question. Never in a million years did she think she'd have to ask it, but of course, all of the events led her to this place and she took a deep breath before asking firmly, "So when do I move in?"

* * *

What the hell did this girl carry, anyway?

She had thousands and thousands of boxes and suit cases. He wondered how she would ever find a place to stay that would fit all of her things, and then he realized he didn't care. Already, just the day she was moving in was becoming hell.

Quinn rolled her eyes as she saw Puck come in with another of her boxes and drop it carelessly on the floor. She gaped at him. "Be careful with my stuff!" she hissed, and Puck rolled his eyes.

"Nothing broke." He said, then walked back downstairs.

Quinn looked around. She still wasn't sure if this was the best idea, but living with someone who could actually take care of her (or, she hoped anyway) and the baby was the only thing on her mind, at least until she could give the bastard up and leave Lima like she originally intended.

She didn't tell her parents. She told them she was staying with Santana and Santana backed her up, but she didn't tell them about her being pregnant. She couldn't. She really, really tried but it wasn't going to happen. She decided to tell them maybe after the baby was born, after it was gone, and she didn't have to go through the embarrassment of telling them their daughter had slept with a complete stranger and had gotten knocked up.

She looked around the well kept apartment and wondered how Puck's room could be such a dump but out here, everything was so clean and presentable. She grazed her fingers over the kitchen's countertop and looked at her hands, noting not one spot of dirt was there. She admired the colors of the wall and the step-down living room, where it seemed so comfortable to sit in and watch TV a lazy night. She walked towards the hall and saw multiple doors, and she decided to investigate to get comfortable with her new place.

She opened on at the very end and found out it was the laundry room, where everything was neatly organized and the clothes that were folded were all stacked by color. She smiled as she saw multiple detergents in a rack above the machines: some for all black, all white, and colors. She left the laundry room and laced her fingers behind her back as she walks further into the hall. She found a small restroom close to the laundry room, then a door that she remembered to be Puck's room (and she tried not to shiver, really), then she found another door. Frowning, she wondered what it was, so she opened it and looked around.

Quinn guessed this must have been the guest bedroom, because it was so…neat. It literally looked like one of those big shot bedrooms, where the sheets were a plain brown color and the bed big and queen sized with tons of pillows, and nothing hanging out. She walked further inside and her brows furrowed as she saw a picture frame on the nightstand next to the lamp, and she grabbed it and looked at it. It was a picture of a good looking guy carrying a very pretty looking girl and they were laughing, looking at everywhere but the camera. She cocked her head to the side and placed the picture back on the nightstand, wondering where the hell that came from.

She then started noting little things, like a small cologne bottle sitting on the dresser and a watch resting on the bed. She walked into the closet and blinked as she saw a side filled with nice dress shirts and suits, then the other side with casual t-shirts and jeans. She shook her head and tried making sense of everything. Did Noah Puckerman live a double life?

Finn walked quickly inside his apartment, frowning at the already wide open door. He rolled his eyes, thinking about how stupid Puck was and how he would get them robbed one day as he walked further into the apartment. He didn't notice the boxes lying around the living room as he walked into his room, not noticing how his bedroom door was already open.

He closed the door behind him and took off his casual shirt and started unbuckling his belt, throwing it on the bed. He began unbuttoning his jeans as he walked towards the closet when he saw what he least expected in his closet: a blonde girl looking through his clothes.

Quinn looked up and saw a shirtless guy in front of her. She screamed and Finn blinked, taking a step back. Quinn, not knowing what to do, grabbed one of the random shoes on the closet floor and started hitting him with it, still screaming her lungs out.

"What the—hey!" Finn cowered out of the closet as the crazy blonde continued to hit him with his own fucking shoe, holding his hands up to cover the blows. "Hey! You! Would you stop?"

Quinn blinked and did so, looking at him. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" she spat, holding the shoe up threateningly. "I will call the cops if you don't tell me right away."

Finn looked at her, dumbfounded. "Uh, I'm Finn Hudson, I live here, and that would cost me if you did call the cops." He looked at the shoe. "And that's a two hundred dollar shoe, so if you could just please let it down easily…"

Quinn looked up at the tall man, blinking. She suddenly dropped the shoe to the floor and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh!" she said, her face flooding red with embarrassment. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't…Puck didn't mention he had a…" what was he, a gay mate?

"House mate," Finn finished for her, quickly grabbing his shoe off the floor. "Best friend, pal. I pay for most of the apartment, anyway." He told Quinn. "And clean up most of it. And…wait, who am I complaining to?"

Quinn laughed weakly. It figured Puck wouldn't be the one to have this apartment so nice and clean, and this room sure told her a lot more about Finn Hudson than she knew about Noah Puckerman. "Uh," Quinn played with her hands nervously. "I'm Quinn Fabray. Puck didn't tell you about me?"

She meant her moving in, but she was surprised to hear what Finn said next. "Oh, right. You're that girl he slept three weeks ago. He finally found you!" he laughed. "He'd been going crazy, thinking nonstop about you."

Quinn was almost flattered, but then she realized that this guy had no idea she was moving in. "Ah, well, you see, it's a funny story…"

Her funny story was cut off by Puck clearing his throat in the door frame. Both of them looked over and Quinn glared at him, while Finn looked extremely confused.

Puck, of course, was used to Finn having that look on his face. "Oh, good. You two met. Spared me the introductions."

Finn raised an eyebrow. Okay, he had absolutely no clue what the hell was going on in that place. Plus, he was still shirtless and his jeans were falling from his waist as they spoke. He buttoned his jeans again and glanced at Quinn, then looked back at Puck. "Yeah, we did." He shook his head. "Now may I ask why she's in my room?"

Quinn was about to respond but Puck beat her to it. "She was probably wandering around. Like a lost puppy." He smirked at Quinn and Quinn scoffed, looking up at Finn and smiling sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to look around the apartment and Noah had failed to mention he had a housemate."

Finn nodded. "Oh, well that's okay I guess." He scratched the back of his head.

Puck snapped his fingers. "Right! Hey. Quinn's moving in. I hope you don't mind."

Quinn looked over at Puck, shocked, and Finn's facial expression matched her. "What?" he breathed out, and Puck shrugged.

"I forgot to mention it. Must have slipped my mind."

"Okay, Puckerman, things like someone moving in don't just 'slip your mind'. They're usually haunting it." He spat at him. Puck rolled his eyes and shrugged again, walking back out to the living room.

Quinn looked apologetically to Finn. "I'm so sorry."

Finn shook his head. "Uh, no. Let me just…I'm gonna go talk to him." He looked down at the shoe still in his hand and handed it to her, walking out to the living room and grabbing Puck's arm, turning him over. "Hey!"

"Hi, how's it going?" Puck said, and Finn shook his head.

"Why is she moving in?" he asked.

"She's pregnant." Puck responded, trying to sound as if this was no big deal but the word still tasted like venom in his mouth. Finn blinked.

"She's pregnant." He repeated.

Puck scoffed. "I thought you were Sherlock and I was Watson."

"Is it yours?" Finn ignored his comment, staring at him seriously. Puck shrugged.

"Apparently."

"So wait, you're saying…" Finn cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're saying that a random girl you knocked up is coming to live with us."

Puck nods once. "Pretty much."

Finn stayed silent for a while. "Well," he said. "I knew it would happen sooner or later."

Quinn walked out of the room and cleared her throat. Finn and Puck both looked over at her. Quinn waved lamely. "Hi."

Puck and Finn both muttered a lame 'hi'.

Quinn looked up at Finn. "Look, I didn't mean to intrude. If you want, I can leave and stay with a friend, and we can pretend this whole thing never happened."

Finn shook his head. "Wait, you don't have a place of your own?"

Quinn sighed, feeling embarrassed. "I don't. But like I said, I can stay…"

"No!" Finn refused. "By all means, stay. If you're going to keep this idiot up all night and going to make him take responsibility for his actions once and for all, then I don't see how this doesn't benefit all of us, huh?" Finn grinned widely and walked back to his room without another word.

Quinn blinked at the empty space he had left. "Well he's…pleasant."

"He's Finn," Puck said.

"I know that, thanks." Quinn said bitterly, then looked around. "Is that all, then?" she walked over to one of the boxes and knelt down to open it.

"It should be, unless you hid something with the baby." Puck said, and Quinn decided to ignore this comment.

"Well I guess it is." She stood up and looked at Puck, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose you'll be sleeping on the couch?"

Puck laughed. "Yeah, I thought you could."

Quinn looked at him. "I'm pregnant."

"So?"

"So pregnant women don't sleep on couches, Noah." Quinn said matter-of-factly.

"Uh, pregnant women who I only met three weeks ago do." Puck said, shaking his head. "You're not taking my bed."

Quinn scoffed. "I wouldn't want to take your bed! It's so disgusting and filthy and ugh! How did I ever sleep with you on it?"

Puck's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, hey, you're acknowledging we slept together!"

"It's hard not to. What do you think brought the baby, a stork? You're a fucking idiot." She stated, rolling her eyes. "I seriously am not looking forward to spending the next nine months of my life with you."

"That makes two of us, then, because you're no fucking carnival, princess." Puck walked past her and to his room. "Oh hey, happy unpacking!" he yelled furiously, slamming the door behind him.

Quinn screamed. "What are you, five?"

Puck called out in a mocking voice. "_What are you, five?"_

"Oh, very mature, Noah!" she rolled her eyes and looked around, sighing as she saw all of the boxes around her. She bit her lip and a lump built in her throat. God, she couldn't handle this. She needed a hug, she needed to think this was all a dream, she needed someone who understood.

As if on cue, Santana walked abruptly inside the apartment and looked around. "Classy," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It's very…modern." She looked over at the blonde and she suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Hey! Are you crying?"

Quinn sniffled and looked down, shaking her head. Santana shook her head and walked over to her, grabbing her face and pulling it up. "Oh hell no. You're crying. Where's this Noah character? I want to see how brave he is when I kick his balls."

Quinn laughed weakly and shook her head, wiping a tear that had managed to escape her eye. "No, no. Don't worry about it. He's an asshole, he's not worth it." She swallowed. "It's just…this whole thing finally hit me, you know? I'm pregnant and I'm living with a guy I hate and it's really all just too overwhelming and I don't know why I'm so sentimental!" she cried out, suddenly sobbing into her best friend's shoulder.

Santana blinked, never having seen Quinn cry this hard, and she sighed deeply, awkwardly stroking her best friend's hair. "There, there," she said lamely. "It's all going to be okay."

"You suck at making people feel better." Quinn laughed, pulling away. Santana scoffed.

"Hey! I wasn't made for this, okay? I can fuck like no other though, that's what I'm good at." She said defensively.

Quinn laughed again, wiping away her tears. "I wouldn't know."

Finn walked out of his room in a dress shirt and dress pants, wearing his two hundred dollar shoes and a suit. He looked at Quinn and then at Santana, then frowned. "Oh no. He didn't knock you up to, did he?"

Quinn giggled. "No, uh, Finn, this is my friend Santana. Tana, this is Finn, Puck's housemate."

Santana smirked and held out a hand, looking him over. He was fine, she'd admit, and he looked like he could work it in a bed…or, more like, he was tall, and when they're tall other things seem to be bigger as well. "Santana Lopez." She said.

Finn swallowed and tried not to look her over, noting how her dress fit her curves perfect. He took her hand and cleared his throat, shaking it. "Finn Hudson. Nice to meet you." he took his hand back and quickly looked at Quinn, averting his gaze from Santana. "Hey, are you okay? Your eyes are all red and puffy."

Quinn shrugged. "I must have gotten something in them," she said, and Finn sighed.

"He made you cry already?" he shook his head and called out, "Hey Puckerman! Get your lazy ass out here and help Quinn unpack her things!"

Puck's voice was heard from his room. "I don't want to!"

Finn scoffed. "You sound like a five year old."

"You, too?" Puck called out mockingly. "You are not my father, Hudson."

"But I do pay your fucking rent and food, so if you don't get out here right now I'm kicking you out."

Puck dragged his feet to his door and walked out, walking over to the living room and crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Finn. "Fuck you."

"Don't make me answer that," Finn warned, and Puck scoffed and looked over at Santana.

"Who're you?" he asked rudely, and Santana rolled her eyes.

"I'm the other waitress you flirted with that night? You know, the night you got my girl Quinn here knocked up?" she said, raising an eyebrow. Puck looked her over and smirked.

"Oh. Now I remember."

Santana held up a hand. "Boy, please. In your fucking dreams."

Finn laughed. "Ouch."

Santana looked up at Finn and smiled, a genuine smile that Finn noticed made her face look extremely pretty and he smiled back on instinct, making Santana's stomach flutter.

Then Santana looked away because when a guy made her stomach flutter, it was time to move on.

Puck groaned. "It's like when my sperm finally settles my game is off." He mutters, and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You are so fucking insensitive. I'm the one who is going to carry this baby around for nine months!"

Puck looked over at Quinn. "Oh I'm sorry. Maybe I should hit your stomach to see what happens!" he mocked her words from two days before and Quinn gaped, shaking her head.

They started going at it, causing Santana and Finn to take a step back. Finn sighed and shook his head. Santana elbowed him and looked up at him. "How long do you think it's going to take for them to fall for each other?"

Finn smirked down at the brunette. "I say a hundred bucks for four months."

Santana grinned slyly. "I say double or nothing it's two."

"Deal."


End file.
